It’s Good to be Back
Ski Photography by Matt Power
Toward the end of a six month stint abroad there’s always a slow build up of anxiety about going home. I guess for me this became especially apparent because I was coming home to my fourth consecutive winter, on the coattails of a one in ten year winter in Central Patagonia. The uncertainties about another winter season floated antagonistically through my mind as I watched the rain, and even the occasional, rare and illusive snow dampen the streets below my apartment during October.
Late October presented no signs of winter in Argentina ending, and with no quick way to get back to the mountains, and no great weather windows to make the 14-hour bus ride, some kind of seasonal confusion was certainly setting in. Despite spending more days in my apartment watching the rain than I care to share, the brilliance of nature found ways to connect me back to the mountains, offering solace as myself and the whole of our city awaited the coming of spring.
As signs of winter began building at home in Aspen, Colorado, sometime during early November or late October, signs of spring along the Argentine coast finally began to make their own parallel appearance. As the days passed, and my time away from the mountains grew even more distant, my thoughts jumped between my time exploring the mountains of Central Patagonia and the eagerness to get home and ski.
As glimmers of spring finally started to emerge intermittently through spring showers, the budding of trees, the coastal greenery contrasted by the blues of the ocean and the surfacing of the local population to seaside gathering points, a new energy was in the air.
There is no denying the human spirit and its connection to warm weather. As the days grew longer, they also seem to grow shorter. We lived more in the moment, and the time passed without concern for the past or the future. Patagonia was just a memory, and Aspen a distant thought. We were just simply living.
As quickly as the weather turned from ugly to beautiful on the Argentine coast it was time to leave. 6 hours on a bus. 3 hours in the airport in Buenos Aires. 10 1/2 more on a plane, and a 4 hour layover in Huston. Another 3 1/2 hour flight to Denver, a short 2 1/2 hour wait in the airport and another 5 in a shuttle and I’m finally home. In just a matter of 34 hours, and a quick night sleep I was right off the plane and back into the mix.
And the moment the snow begins to fall again, you realize nothing has really changed. And all the restlessness of the last few months seems to be for nothing. Everything is right again.